


Black and Blue (I Am You)

by eggblue



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Irony, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-06-09
Updated: 2001-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-03 00:31:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/375073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggblue/pseuds/eggblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason has a journal. Bruce doesn't know about it.</p><p>Bruce/Jason written in June 2001<br/>(for David Wojnarowicz, late 20th century boy king)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black and Blue (I Am You)

*

[Jason Todd’s private diary, September 16, 1988]

It's dusk, and I've been a bad boy. I run away too much, when I should stay and be good. That’s why I’m in the desert. But even though it’s getting cold outside, my skin is flush and I’m sweating.

 

[We fought and I threw a tantrum, but it was justified, because all we do is justified sooner or later. That’s what destiny is for. He said tomorrow we get the Joker and find my mother. Tonight was just us though. I had to try something, kiss him or just touch and the rest would just happen. If he hadn’t pushed me away or hadn’t had that look on his face or hadn’t avoided me then I would have forgiven him. But not now. I have my reasons, this book is full of them. I need all of this to be true right now, even though I know it’s not. But I’m good at pretend. I can pretend in this book, and my mind, and my body will listen. I know what the truth is. The bat is in me now and he has been inside of me for a long time and he ain’t coming out of me ever.]

 

He said to take it off and I did. First the cape and gloves, then the red vest and the mask. I left the green on last because I know he likes it. The rest of me is ok, but I have these perfect legs, and I know the Bat has a thing for it. I don’t wear tights or anything, it’s just bare leg. And they’re smooth and sculpted, no hair or anything. Sometimes I catch him looking, and it’s always at my legs and ass. Kids like me, we learn early on how to work it, and even the Bat gets caught in the creamy stuff, that perfect flesh whatever it is.

Sometimes if I smile I catch him looking at the places where the light hits my face and there’s a halo of fuzz there. It’s still blond even though I have black hair like his, I’m just not old enough to shave yet. My hair is sort of wild though. He makes me keep it oiled and back when I’m in the costume, but I like to ruffle it up as soon as I get the chance. I’ve had enough men tell me how much they liked the curls in the front that hang down and sometimes get caught in my eyes. Blue eyes are fucking awesome to have. You can get away with a lot of shit if you have blue eyes. I think that’s why everyone believes that Bruce is such a playboy, even though he hasn’t brought a girl home in the year that I’ve known him. He can just blink those eyes and play dumb. I gotta watch it though because I can get a mean look on if I’m feeling that feeling like I want to get in a fight with someone. I have that scary thing that he has. Cool deal-- it keeps people out of your face anyway. Bruce says I have an attitude. Yeah, like he doesn’t.

My eyes are pretty nice, but my mouth is better. I can do all sorts of things with my mouth...

 

[I see him lying over there and I know he wants it, and that’s what he’s thinking about, and it’s only a matter of time. He really does want me and it’s only the way he holds himself back that is keeping him away, and it would all be really simple if he just gave in, and I could be sure about it and I wouldn’t have to feel bad all the time because of how we make each other want each other. And he wouldn’t have to ignore my crying and have all those bad dreams and I wouldn’t have to run away like I do too much and make him worry about me just so I don’t have to face his silence.]

 

I do take the green off eventually. The boots are last. My feet and kind of small, really dainty feet. They match my legs. You just want to grab them or something. And they arch sort of like a dancer’s. Yeah, I know, I’ve done a lot of dancing in my time but I mean real dancers, like ballet or whatever.

 

[Man, I’d like to watch a ballet sometime-- I hear you can see right through the men’s tights! I bet Bruce would take me to watch if I asked. But we’d probably end up fighting like we always do, because I bet the men would turn him on too and he always gets mad when that happens and all moody-like, and me being around doesn’t help much, because I just remind him of that, so we always fight about stupid stuff and it drives Alfred crazy. Damn, Al would freak if he ever found this diary! He only really taught me to read after I came to live at the house (which Bruce still doesn’t know about) and he doesn’t pay attention to a lot of Bruce’s weirdnesses. I bet he has no idea about all of this shit. Though usually by the end of it all I break down just a little and I get upset sometimes more than I’d like to. But I can’t control it as well as Bruce can all of the time and when I get angry and there’s nothing to hit, I sometimes end up crying or something...

Fuck, man. All the writing in this book is about Bruce, and it’s all shit. I’d like him to read it someday-- I’d like him to read it and freak out and I hope Alfred finds out and calls him on all of the shit he’s about and he lies awake at night thinking of all the sex in this book and wishing that he’d had it when he had the chance and in the meantime I’m long gone and there’s no coming after me-- I’ll stay here in the desert and wear pink and let all the Arabian men fuck me as much as they want, and Bruce won’t ever get any of it and he’ll just have to dream about my legs and my feet and my ass but none of it will be his anymore like it could be right now if he’d just allow himself to open up his eyes and look at me over here writing this thing------------]

 

The green clings really tight to my skin, but everything’s just rounded and bulging, and very very smooth. I have these beauty marks, one by my nipple and one right above my crotch, and you can see them clearly because I don’t have any hair or anything and it’s all just skin. It makes my dick and balls really cute, because they’re not really going to do much but sit there. Men like to touch them and stuff, but I’m not really going to react. Though with the Bat, I bet I’d react then. In my dreams I always do.

He’s just really hot, like explosive fire burning hot. I’m not kidding. He changes in front of me all the time, or just walks around bare naked like it’s natural, and I do the same like it’s nothing, but man, inside I’m freaking out. He’s like a stud horse, but he’s a man-- all his muscles just bulge out and make him look stocky, like those bodies that look like they just fuck all day long, that weighted center look. But he’s also tall and trimmed down, so he can look really young too most of the time. I dream about him sleeping next to me and just taking me whenever he feels like it, in the middle of the day, whenever. Just nudge me on the shoulder, “Hey Jason...”, and I’m all, “Go at it then.”

Once my ass is bare, he’s already looking at it. He’s still in costume too but I can feel his eyes and tell by the way his mouth is set what he wants. He’s sitting on a wooden crate (they’re all over the place, filled with god knows) and his knees stick out from his middle like steel girders. I love the gray, molding to his thighs like melted rubber. He must love the green in the same way, but where one is steel, the other is plastic. I’m naked and I walk over to his thighs (the rest is just there, I’m staring at his thighs) and I know where he wants me. He pats the top of his left leg with a gloved hand, and I just about jump right there.

First I straddle his thigh, and his legs are far enough apart to fit me but my feet aren’t touching the ground any more. I press my palms to his thigh, between my torso and his. He starts to bounce me, just a little, then a little harder. I’m staring at his face, his body, his face, his body, I’m chewing on my bottom lip. His face is turned towards mine and it has that same set to it that says fascination and curiosity. Just wonder. His suit is rubbing me in places I don’t even have a name for and my feet feel weightless.

He stops bouncing me and lifts me around my waist, turning me so I’m lying face down over his thighs and my ass is slightly raised up, central to his vision and his touch. My teeth are clenched already, waiting. The first blow is hard. I can still feel the gloved handprint on my cheek, burning there. The second one comes down right on top of the last, then the third before I have a moment to breathe. He comes down fast in succession, like a master at what he’s doing. Now I can’t feel the whole bottom half of my body, my ass going numb, my legs kicking out into nothing, those gorgeous feet flailing. His muscles tense right before mine do, both of us getting ready for the blow, but him always succeeding me.

I don’t know where I was, but I come back to myself when I feel slick latex fingers cup my cock and balls from behind. They’re sweaty like the rest of me. I’m drenched in sweat, my hair wet and dripping on the ground. Beneath us the sand is turning dark, like rain on concrete. Sweat is dripping from the end of his nose and his chin, pouring from underneath the suit. I hear a roaring but it’s the blood beating through my ears and my breath rasping out. When he probes my ass with a finger, I claw and cling to where I can reach on his thigh with my hands and hold on like a drowning city boy who can’t swim. I can feel myself pulling him in the more I resist. Bodies are awesome things. I can’t get enough of them.

He lifts me up again and places me on the ground, on my knees. Thank god too because I can’t support myself real well just now. I can crawl some though, and somewhere I crawl towards a blanket. I can feel his eyes through the mask staring at me as I go, watching his favorite parts of me. I look back and he’s removing the cowl. The rest of the costume goes too. I fall over on my side and just watch.

He’s holding my feet, one in each hand. His thumbs trail over the arches. I’m flat on my back and he’s kneeling in front of me, that center of gravity right where it should be. Some kind of sound comes out of my mouth when he pulls my feet up, lifting my ass into the air. I can feel my palms on the solid ground but even that’s debatable. Damn. He holds my legs to his chest with one arm as he uses the other hand to guide his hard cock towards its destination.

He’s big by any standard, but I’m not too tight for him. I’ve been around the block enough times, and a hell of a lot more times than I’d ever tell him about (though the fact that he found me homeless and living in Crime Alley at the age of 12 ought to have told him a thing or two). He’s cut but thick just like the rest of him. I’m just taut and softness, like a rubber band.

I’m three inches and maybe it gets to four, but my balls are still small and round, so it all fits together. I’m cut, and sometimes you can see a few larger veins poking out through the skin. But I’m all pink and white, and I’ve started growing some hair which contrasts with the rest of me because it’s really dark hair and the rest of me looks pale and smooth against it. I can tell already that I’m not going to get that big, but in my line of work that’s not a huge problem. But with him, even the hair he has that centers around his cock like a nest is so blue/black that sometimes I think it’s purple. Or maybe that’s just because his cock is sort of purple through the pale skin he has like marble. That’s a nice thought-- marble. All marble and steel.

He’s holding my feet again though, and he’s the best. Holding my feet, one in each hand, and kneeling and thrusting into me. I’m grabbing him inside reflexively and I can feel my muscles getting sore. My ribs are pressing into my chest but my body is so smooth that I could be bent in half and it would look like I was resting. I’m just one color and it goes on forever, and so is he, but he’s shades of blue and I’m just skin. My shoulders are sinking into the sand, and the rest of me is just sinking.

 

[I’ve never actually had him, but I know he’d be the best. He’s the best at everything. It’s really not fair you know. My being born to find him, and then every moment in my life leading up to it. And now it’s here and it makes all the sense in the world. I know I’ve screwed things up. I know all the fighting and running away and everything just made him angry, but I also know that it all made him want me too. It’s not like I have to change to get him to fuck me. He already wants that, even if he would never admit it.

All the stuff that makes us who we are also makes us into these screwed up human beings but also makes us dream about each other until we’re half mad. And I say, if you’re messed up about something, then don’t try to ignore it, just go with it. Because it’s not worth it to force yourself into some sort of meditation trance just to forget about the boy you’re in love with and it’s not worth it to cry in a corner writing in a stupid book just because you can’t get what you want. But if that is what this all amounts to, then I should have been dead long ago. So fuck it.]

 

He’s holding me feet and staring at my legs like he’s always wanted to (the perfect creamy stuff, I told you) and everything’s shiny with sweat. My ass is still sore from the spanking and every time our skin rubs together I want to wince, but then the pleasure comes from where he’s rubbing me inside and I forget completely. I get that feeling like I always do that he’s scratching an itch with each movement, like some kind of doctor or something.

Now he’s leaning forward and holding my feet above my head and drops of sweat are pouring down on me and I stick out my tongue. I think it looks cute, he loves it when I’m being cute.

 

[Maybe next month he’ll buy me something sweet for my birthday, a bike (damn, I wish I was old enough to drive!) or a video game or a dildo in a perfect replica of his cock. I’d tie it to the headboard of his bed so he’s come home from work and see me impaling myself on it, waiting for him.

I’m thinking of telling him that story about the cop I used to live with. He was a rookie and everyone watched out for him like he was this green kid, and I thought it was nice and all but then I found out that the reason he had the reputation that he did was because he was really big and still a virgin and it was kind of a running joke or something between the rest of the cops. But I didn’t know all of that, I just thought I was doing him a favor like all the other times. So I went home with him one night, but thank god that I’d already seen a few of his buddies that same night because I had no idea what this guy was about. And he really was innocent and all, just hung like a horse. But he was so innocent that I had to do all the work. I think he fell in love with me afterwards or something, because I heard he was looking for me everywhere. But one night was enough of that.]

 

Bruce isn’t so innocent. We have a conversation where he’s telling me all these tricks that he’s learned and all this knowledge about the power that the body has to do whatever you want it to do. And I’m telling him what I know and it begins to be a conversation between two equals. Then he starts showing me, not just talking. And it turns into much what is going on right now.

He’s behind me and we’re lying back to front. My back is really arched so I can push back against him as he has his hands on my hip and my chest, holding me, and I have my hands one on his hip, the other somewhere out in front of me, grabbing nothing. My legs are spread apart and wrapped around his legs behind me. There’s the perfect line-- his ass half-pressed to the ground and contracting, his cock spreading my cheeks apart and pushing in this smooth line, the line of skin making the outline of his cock into my cheeks and balls and cock, hard and pointing a line towards more skin, until the line never ends.

Then it starts to get... more intense, because something’s dropped away and we’re starting to feel this, finally. Like when driving a car (and I have, just not legally) when sometimes your mind is thinking that you shouldn’t cut that guy off in traffic or make that turn, but then your foot presses the gas and your hands turn the wheel and you’re just *doing* it, even though your mind never said yes, not even once, and your body just went off on it’s own. It’s just like that, our bodies going off on their own, taking over, doing what they want to do. And it’s so good, so damn good, that I don’t think I want my mind back, because this body thing is making me jealous. I can tell he’s feeling it too because his body stopped caring about being graceful and it just really wants to respond to mine, whole bodies speaking to one another. And the best thing, is that bodies can be surprised, and act like babies from the womb. Since neither of us have been babies for a real long long time.

 

[I have to take a break.]

 

He’s just come and he’s holding onto my feet but they’re really spread apart now and his weight is on the backs of my thighs and my ass. I can use my hands to push up off the ground and bring my body around to him and I push him backwards but that center of gravity still holds and we’re both centered on his body like a pivot. He’s on his back and still holding onto my feet and I bet I resemble something like a frog, with my knees pointing up and my body centered on him like a frog about to jump.

And I do jump, but just a little, just enough to rock my body forward off of him and then back down again. Then I do it again and again and again. I’m still hard and it’s really amazing because I know it’s just because of him or maybe it’s because of my birthday coming up so soon and maybe this will be the time when I finally get to come and he’s here to see it. He sees my surprise and he starts to smile and it’s really something because he doesn’t do that very much but oh man I swear this is all that I want in this world.

 

[I have such a vivid imagination and it never shuts down so I begin to see us at a theme park riding the coasters and we’re together and I’m just tall enough to ride all of the rides, even the giant steel ones with the huge tracks and pipes and screws and something about it reminds me of him and it’s all really sexy all of a sudden. Then the way we actually ride the coasters, with the force and speed pushing our bodies together and in so many different directions. It’s the same feeling as now, with my body being this very real thing and then the sensation that my body is somehow separate from me and there’s this total freedom in that and it makes me want him so bad when we get off the ride, I want to drag him to the nearest bathroom and let him fuck my brains out. Man, that’s what I want to do on my birthday.]

 

Or we could stay just like this, and I’d be happy too. I smile back and he says “I’m in love with you, Jason” and I say “Really?” and he says “Yes, I’ve been in love with you this whole time” and I say “You’ve just been afraid to show it because I’m so young and we’re not supposed to be together, right?” and he says “Yes, that’s right” and I say “But we are good together” and he says “You’re right, we are, you’ve been right all along” and I say “Yes, I have” and then I sort of lose it for a moment but it’s really ok because I just came and he was watching me, and then I lean down and lick his chest and he tickles my feet and I laugh.

 

[The sky is really dark now and the stars are bright but it’s getting hard to write because I think I’ve worn myself out. Just for old time’s sake I think I’ll put the green back on, but just the green. Then I’ll put this book away where he can’t find it, even though he knows it exists now, but he doesn’t know what I’ve written in it yet. I don’t want him to read it now, but maybe later. He is my friend after all. I take friends really really seriously. I had this one friend Stan (it was pretty funny because he actually did look old enough to be a Stan, though he was just a kid) and he said he was in love with me and stuff but I didn’t want to deal with that because I had other stuff to do and I couldn’t deal with it right then. Though now I wish that I had done something. It would have gotten fucked up somehow but at least I could have made him happy for little while. I hope he didn’t love me like this, because I don’t wish that on anyone.

So I want Bruce to read this someday. But not now. Now I’ll just put the green on and go over there and lie down and stare at his face and try not to kiss him again. I’ll think about my mother and how we’ll take care of each other and what it might be like to feel her holding me so I’m torn away from the world and the streets where her flesh is even softer than mine and warm and not blue at all.]

 

I dream of walking at night in the city, wearing my jacket and jeans and shades like the other people do on the street, like I like to do. The jeans rub against all my naked skin and it gets me hard even without thinking. I like it. All you can see of me at first is the flame of my lighter as I light a cigarette, and how it reflects in the shades I’m wearing like giant pupils gone big in the dark. Maybe the front curls of my hair hang down over my forehead, since it’s humid and the steam is coming off the pavement and has been ever since the sun went down. My skin, my shirt is all white, and the rest of me is dark and it would look exotic to those not from the city. But who are they? They’re not around here much, and I don’t know ‘em.

Walking in the city and I step into a streetlight’s halo on the corner of some street (all corners have names, but they look alike to the uninitiated, so I won’t go into it). Maybe that’s where he sees me, and that’s where it begins. My sneakers, the torn and tight jeans, my hard-on in the shadows, the T-shirt, the leather, the shades, and the cigarette in my smirking trembling mouth, my hair blue in the light. There isn’t nothing there.

Maybe he steps from the roof into the alley, like gods do. He goes driving in the car, faster and more dangerous than before, the way the night air is sweet and makes us do that sort of thing, more and more and more of it. I don’t know. It’s all black and blue.

 

The End  



End file.
